


She goes...

by saltez



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltez/pseuds/saltez
Summary: They were not in a relationship...Sort of. ;)





	She goes...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> I do not own Devil Wears Prada!!!
> 
>  
> 
> And sorry guys, this is not an update. :)
> 
> Believe me.
> 
> I hope you'll like it.

“Hold that thought.”

 

Andrea felt it even before she heard it. She felt the uncertainty radiating off the other woman, felt that sudden unease that has her back stiffen- readying herself for the blow.

 

“Andrea…” It was said like a caress, unsure yet not without tenderness, and she finds herself aching because of it.

 

Any other time she’d be proud of herself for making this always-so-sure-of-herself woman speechless, but now isn’t one of those times. For now, she wants answers; a sense of clarity and balance.

 

They’d been doing this dangerous dance for years, and she was so sure she wouldn’t want to complicate things, so sure that she’d be happy with whatever they have- or had, at this point. She was so sure yet she finds herself thinking what it would be like to be in public with Miranda; to be able to hold the other woman’s hand without thinking about the consequences, and to be able to kiss her freely, lovingly, without the other woman giving her a dark look. She tried it once, and Miranda shivered then pushed her away. They didn’t talk about it, when Miranda decided the cold treatment she inflicted was enough already. 

 

They didn’t talk about it, and Andrea was left with the memory of that one kiss. It was seared on her mind, and she’d be lying if she says that she doesn’t dream about it- of how Miranda sighed into the kiss, of how she surrendered to it, of how she poured the feelings left unsaid. Her mind wisely leave off the part where she’d been pushed away by that same woman, the part where every hope for a deeper meaning to this relationship she might have vanished.

 

That was the day she promised to herself that she would be happy with whatever Miranda could give. That was the day when her mind won over her heart and she’s too weak to stop it. Too weakened by the fact that whatever feelings she might harbor won’t ever be reciprocated.

 

And so she settled. She kisses Miranda only if the other woman initiated it, and Miranda only always kisses with hunger, like she couldn’t get enough of Andrea’s mouth she might as well devour it. Andrea responds to it just as hungrily, and if a tear or two slips out of her traitorous eyes, that’s only because she was overwhelmed by lust, not that other ‘L’ word.

 

She learned to control herself, through time. She was rarely caught off-guard by Miranda by now, or so she thought.

 

So she finds herself with this present predicament.

 

She resumed turning towards where the Townhouse front door was. The faster she reaches that door, the sooner she could cry. The sooner she could cry, the sooner the pain she feels right this moment to disappear, right? Right?  
Honestly, she has no idea. She just wants to get out. And be as far away from Miranda as she could probably be.

 

It isn’t really that far away, for Miranda decided to stop her with a hand on her wrist. And she has always been weak for Miranda, always. So her feet stopped on its own accord, though her face remained resolutely turned towards the exit.

 

“Let me explain.” It was firmer now, a touch of confidence evident in the tone.

 

“There was nothing to explain.” She said without turning to face the other woman, and silently congratulating herself for her voice doesn’t break. “I was just leaving.”

 

“I heard you the first time you said it. But we are not finished talking yet, I’m afraid.” The quiet confidence in that voice was back full force now, and she hates and envies the other woman in equal measure right this moment for it.

 

“I’m afraid there is nothing to talk about.” She retorted. She heard the exasperated sigh, and she could just picture the older woman’s face, bare of its usual mask, baring her annoyance for all the world to see right now. Good.

 

“Stop acting like a child for once, Andrea.” It was said in that indifferent tone she uses when talking to Irv, and Andrea bristles.

 

“I’m acting mature right now, Miranda.” She faced the other woman now. Anger tinges her cheeks, but her voice is calm, like how the weather goes, before a storm. “I’m deciding to get fresh air outside so I could think of what to do next.”

 

“No. You are just running away, just like what you always do.” The accusation is false, but stings like snakebite does, its venom spreading to corrupt the remaining sanity and calm she has.

 

“Don’t you dare accuse me of running away! You know the truth. Don’t you dare twist it, Miranda.” She speaks, or shouts those words, yet couldn’t care one bit. She was shivering with fury. How dare this woman!

“I do not run, Andrea.” The tone goes lower, and Andrea shivers just a bit more.

 

“Yeah. Whatever lets you sleep at night. I’m out of here.” 

 

She’s just done. So, so done!

 

She was not the one to insist that they should not date nor entertain other people while they were in this relationship, whatever this was. Miranda didn’t vocally insist it. she ahs her ways. She made Andrea almost crazy that one time she found Andrea talking to a supposedly blind date set up by Lily, by making her come all night long while whispering words she just vaguely remembers, even now. She was to overcome by how much Miranda seemed to want her that night, by the curls of those fingers and that talented mouth and tongue that were relentless on their assault, her mind too dizzy to form a coherent thought beyond Miranda and what she was doing to her.

 

“It’s not what you think it is.”

 

That stopped her in her track.

 

“Been there, done that.” Then she continued walking.

 

“Andrea please…” It was whispered brokenly, hopelessly, and so she couldn’t help but turn back around to face the older woman.

 

“His tongue was deeply buried down your throat, and that was not what I thought it was. Am I supposed to believe that?” She replied, just as brokenly, if not more.

 

“Don’t you trust me?” It was said with insecurity lacing each word, and Andrea wanted to kiss that insecurity away, but she feels heavy, burdened by that scene earlier she couldn’t unsee. 

 

The New York Fashion Week was live on the TV and she decided to watch and look out for Miranda there. The other woman was adamant on not letting Andrea see the dress she’d be wearing and Andrea doesn’t work for Miranda for years now so there was no way of knowing what it would look like. Nigel and Emily were both mime about it, too. So, there were not enough words to describe how frustrated she’d been. 

 

When Miranda arrived, she was with a man. A Senator named Ralph Peterson. She paid him no mind at all, too focused on Miranda’s beauty and how she seemed to glide, not walk, like a Queen and talks with that authority only her seemed to possess.

 

The crowd parts like the Red sea and Andrea watches, fascinated. The hours passed.

 

She received a text saying Miranda would be less than five minutes away and her hands were already itching to take off that dress made by Valentino surely from Miranda’s body and have her way with her. So she waited by the door.

 

That thought vanished when the door opened to reveal Miranda in a liplock with the said Senator. Also her heart has fallen from her chest to her feet and it laid there on the floor, in pieces. She was too stunned to speak or even move amd that was when Miranda saw her. The moment their eyes met was the moment her feet found the strength to turn around and go for the bag she has with her that she left on the living room couch.

 

There was a buzzing in her ears and she felt numb, and too dumbfounded that for a moment she just sat on the  
couch, not quite knowing what to do.

 

She heard the door shut and so she stood to leave.

 

“I should go.”

 

That was when this started.

 

“What are we really? Because if this is nothing I’d make sure not to bother you again.” She asked, instead of answering the older woman’s question. Her tears won’t fall here in front of this woman, she’ll make sure of that.

 

“We are not nothing, Andrea.” Sincerity laced those words. She may be hurting but her ears couldn’t deny it.

 

“Miranda, I think I should leave. For now.” It sound resigned, even to her own ears. It sound defeated, lost and hurting. And she feels tired. tired of feeling this way.

 

“No. Please, don’t.” The begging is tearing up her soul, it’s piercing her down to her bones and she’s still weak for Miranda, but she needs a breather.

 

So, she goes.

 

And so does her tears.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not want to end it this way. I do not.
> 
> SORRY!!!
> 
> (hides before I get killed)


End file.
